— I found this photo of my mother today and managed to scan it with my ‘all in one’ laser printer which is screaming that I need to get a new toner cartridge –

— The above photo was taken during her time as a volunteer ‘Foster Grandparent’ in, I think, the Two Rivers Elementary School in Two Rivers, Alaska, where she really came alive and loved what she was doing, paying attention to kids in the school system who needed attention. The kids loved her as much as she loved them. { I think she did all her Foster Grandparenting in Two Rivers, but she might have done some closer to home when she moved to North Pole, Alaska. }

— She told us she’d really wanted to be a school teacher, but when she got married in 1948 – She was told she could either be a wife and mother or have a career.

— After my father died in 1995, mom went to visit my sister, Sharon, and Sharon’s 2nd husband, Gary Hedding, Sharon’s 3 boys and one of Gary’s two sons – in Two Rivers, and later in North Pole, Alaska. She volunteered on a temporary basis in the Foster Grandparent program at the school Sharon also worked in as an Education Assistant – The principal caller her into his office co-incidentally on her birthday, October 20th, and told her he had to give her an evaluation, looked at his notes, shook his head, sighed, and then looked up and grinned, “All I can say is, We really wish we could keep you here, the kids love you and so do all the teachers – ” And when he said he was going to walk her back to her classroom, they stepped out of his office, turned a corner and every child in the school was sitting in a semi-circle in the hallway and they all yelled out, “Happy Birthday, Gramma Dot!” and one by one came up, handed her a hand-made birthday card and gave her a big hug. She cried happy tears reading the cards over and over for three days at home and came back in and said, “Okay – you got me – how could I leave you after this?”

— And I’m tearing up as I write this.

— Mom moved on to higher things on April 8th, 2016 – We’re all sure she had a halo waiting for her at the ‘Pearly Gates’ – and a big reception party that probably embarrassed her half way back to life – { she didn’t like standing out in a crowd or being the center of attention. }

— Underlined words below are not links unless they’re a different colour from the rest of the text: —

— Great Britain = 33% { England : The ones I know about, Brooks [ was Brooke ] from the Huttersville area of Northern England. [ William and Eliza ( see below ) were my maternal Great Grandparents = My mother’s mother’s parents == Eliza Morgan Brooks (hated the name Eliza) == Somebody joked with me once that the Morgans came over on the second boat after the Mayflower. } { Wales : One Wellington uncle traced us Wellingtons back to Wales, said we departed from Wales to come to the New World. Don’t know whether we were chased out of England first or what. Some Welsh people I met said if we were from Wales the ‘double l’ would have been pronounced something like ‘edge’ without the d sound – it would have sounded like Whezhlingdon – } { Scotland : George = my paternal grandmother was Edith George before she married Robert Carlson Wellington Senior. The legend there was that a second son from a ‘titled’ family came to the new world to seek his fortune. One of his male children married a Native American. I grew up thinking I was 1/32nd Native American. People looked at my father’s photograph and my grandmother’s brother’s photograph and thought they had the look of someone with Native American ancestors. My grandmother was in the room when my youngest uncle was calculating how much Native American blood we would have. He figured he was 1/16th Native American and I would be 1/32nd. Many years later when I asked my grandmother about our Native American ancestors she said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I believe she was born Edith Grace George, her mother was a Lane, and Edith was the last entry in ‘The Lane Genealogy’ that was quoted by Benny Lane who was a front line clerk in the Bridgeport, Connecticut Motor Vehicle Department Office – the place we had to go to take driver’s license tests, register vehicles, and renew licenses and registrations. I’m not sure where the Lanes came from, but a friend I met through Greg Morse ( another friend – from Nashua, New Hampshire) (And Lizzie Borden‘s mother was a Morse) – was Harvey Richardson, who had Lane Relatives living in I think, Hamden, Connecticut in the 1970’s – who were probably related to Benny and my grandmother. }

— Scandinavia = 28% { Sweden : Carlson: My paternal grandfather, Robert Carlson Wellington Senior – got his middle name from his mother, Julia Sofia Carlson who emigrated from Sweden. Julia’s siblings last name was spelled Karlsson, Carlsson, and Carlson – all the same generation in the same family. My Great-Great Grandmother, Julia Sofia Carlson’s mother, was born a Nordqvist. }

===== This is going to take a lot of time, I will have to come back to this later. =====

William Henry Brooks – Born Willie Brooke in Dewsbury, Yorkshire, England – In the Huddersfield District – on February 27th, 1875 — His father was Henry Brooke, (1840 – 1908). His mother was Eunice Hemingway Brooke (1838 – 1923 ). { I was told he was six years old when the family came to the U.S.A. & that the officials at Ellis Island recorded his name as William Brooks – I wondered why a family would just accept that. } He worked in a factory by day and taught stringed instruments in the evenings. My grandmother, Dorothy Mae Brooks Borden, played the Mandolin in an all woman orchestra { I saw photos, and I think, posters announcing that orchestra’s appearance somewhere. I do not remember the date. My grandmother was his oldest child and he altered documents to claim she was older than she was so she could play with the orchestra before she was legally old enough to do so. Near the end of her life, my grandmother was confused about just how old she actually was because of those conflicting documents. } He died on April 11th, 1959.

Eliza May Morgan Brooks – Born October 27th, 1878 in Bethel, Connecticut, USA – Her father was Charles Oscar Morgan (1844 – 1888). Her mother was Josephine Osborne Morgan (1843 – 1930). { She told me stories about walking to school after snow storms left drifts higher than fences that she had to climb over. She also remembered that memories of the US Civil War were still sharp among her family and friends of the family and everyone was intensely concerned that everything they bought had to be made in states that had remained “in the Union”. She had an opal ring that she gave to my mother after hearing that opals were only good luck for someone born in October – my mother was born on October 20, 1923. } She died on June 12th, 1964.

Back as early as I can remember they lived in a huge old house at the end of a road in Shelton, Connecticut. Their youngest child, my aunt Marjory lived on the second floor with her husband, Albert Armstrong and their two young blonde daughters, Cheryl and Lorraine. My great grandfather would not allow cigarette smoking in his home, and believed [ and preached ] that women should never smoke at all. But the smell of cigarettes being smoked by my aunt and uncle upstairs was undeniably present.

I remember their house being dark not as gloomy as my grandparents’ home in Stratford, but just as dark, maybe darker. On at least one occasion when we went to visit them there, we had to sit in their living room, near their upright piano, and watch the Lawrence Welk Show with them.

One time, before I was eight years old my Great Grandmother came to visit us for an afternoon, possibly after having been to a doctor’s appointment or something. I gave her a hug, and tried to prove how strong I was. Everybody told me to stop that, people her age were brittle and could break too easily.

At one point my parents wondered if it would be a good idea to ask my great grandfather to teach me to play the guitar. My grandmother said that probably would not be that great an idea. My great grandfather had a lot of patience with his paying pupils, but demanded and expected perfection from anyone he was related to.

— Regarding this photo. I thought it was strange that they would be posing with a guitar and a banjo for their wedding portrait. My cousin Lori told me that this was, indeed, their wedding portrait and the bride was not impressed with the fact that her groom expected her to pose with the guitar. — My great grandmother also told me she hated her name, “Eliza”.

— My great grandmother also told me that she saw a flying saucer hovering just beyond the end of their street in Shelton, Connecticut – one evening, shortly after or during the construction of what is now called ‘Old Route 8’.